Elyris. One of the most advanced cities in the world, proudly hosting collaborative efforts between the magi and those who managed to keep their noses in their books long enough to become engineers. Probably some other stuff as well, but nobody here really cares about any other faction. Home. Well, more specifically Under-Elyris. I wasn’t lucky enough to be born to rich parents or even decent ones. Only thing they gave me before kicking me to the curb was an amazing, fifth grade education. But that’s not enough to stay in the city walls as anything but a beggar. And the only place you stay as a beggar is the grave. So here I am. If I was feeling generous, I might call Under-Elyris somewhere with a tightly condensed sense of community. More realistically, it was a slum, jam packed with the poor and desperate. 

Just another day, walking back through the ramshackle streets dragging my latest score from the heap back to the collection of broken-down shanties my crew had set up. Normally I would be looking around, making sure no other gang was stalking me as I walked, but I didn’t think they would jump me this time. I didn’t have my ratty rucksack on me, just the long piece of wood I had scavenged. Plus it was clearly rune marked. Almost no one tries to take runemarked items from the heap. Who would toss a working runework anyway? Just this morning, one of the shacks next alley caught on fire from a poorly enchanted light stone. Guess it was brighter than intended. Honestly, I was just tired of sleeping in the pitch black with my mates ‘round, and figured the faint green glow might make it easier to find and toss the chamber pot at night. Really sucks to wake up to drops of piss splattering on your face. I was only two shacks away from our base when I saw Rat and two of his boys around our door. Well, more of a cloth sheet, but you get the idea. 

I tensed up, gave em a glance and saw the usual. One Rat, dark skinned and crimson eyed. One Pidgin, tan with brown hair and hazel eyes, and one soon to be corpse. Maybe I’d see corpse girl in a bit, but her lips were red. Sexily red. The red you see nobles wear. The red you see of users of lovers kiss. Too many zits and scars to be a noble. Yeah. Not living long hooked on that shit. No point even knowing her name. Still, I Couldn’t help my self from relaxing a bit when I didn’t see any shanks in hand. “Lo’ Rat.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

 He nodded in return “Grub.” 

Had to admit, I was curious now. I had to figure out what was going on. “Your boys are lookin plump, Rat. Prime picking, yeah? Lookin’ for some scrappers for a dig ‘round?” 

He smiled and shook his head. “More for grabbing these times. But both our gangs ‘ave knocked our heads about when grubs down, thinking that Worm, you, and the rest might want some extra shine. Can’t scrap forever.” 

I frowned and looked at Pidgin. He was always the sensible one. Kinda timid, but surely he would see reason. “True enough, but you never know when you’ll hit that prime glower. ‘Sides, snatching without any affinity is a good way to get a bloodhound on you. Could always snatch from a robe by mistake.” Pidgin shuffled his feet and didn’t say anything in response. Coward. 

Rat looked at Pidgin, but his smile never left his face as he made a shiv pop into his hand. “You don’t have to join Grub. Just give Worm a tattle, huh? I wanna hear him say no.”

The red-lips intrigued me. I couldn’t help myself from saying something. “What’s with the waif? She holding her share?” I know. Don’t aggravate users. Don’t start fights you’ll lose. But curiosity is something not even this shitty life managed to beat out of me.

Rat lost his smile. Not good. He walked right up to me, shank still in hand. I was dead. I knew it. He came closer and closer, until his shiv was pressing into my abdomen. “Grub. I like you. I’m not gonna stab you unless you mouth off too much. But still. Don’t taunt a kisser under my control. Or I will HAVE to kill you.”

 Then they turned and walked away. A bit. Then Rat called over his shoulder “ And remember what I told you!”

Moron. A bloodhound is the least of their worries. Not with a kisser in their crew. But if anyone could handle... one of those ... it would be Rat.